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" Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the... "
Class Book of Prose and Poetry: Consisting of Selection from the Best ... - الصفحة 140
بواسطة Truman Rickard - 1863 - عدد الصفحات: 139
عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب

Specimens of the American Poets

1822 - عدد الصفحات: 298
...that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his -own dashings — yet, the dead are there, And millions in those...

The Inquirer, المجلد 1

1822 - عدد الصفحات: 764
...that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous .woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet, the dead are there, And millions in those...

The Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine

1857 - عدد الصفحات: 1196
...or rather, the inspiration of the former is everywhere consecrated by the latter. " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods M'here rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there...

The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation

John Pierpont - 1823 - عدد الصفحات: 492
...The globe are but a handful to the tribes . •„ That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings . . Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the...

English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ...

John March Putnam - 1828 - عدد الصفحات: 200
...that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosoro. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods * Tear*, is a noun without a governing word ; Rule 15.— Hence, is an adverb ami qualities is understood...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., المجلد 2

1829 - عدد الصفحات: 514
...morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone. So...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., المجلد 2

1829 - عدد الصفحات: 520
...momipg, and the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since (irst The flight of vcars began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone....

Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829 - عدد الصفحات: 436
...that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet— the dead are there, And millions hi those...

Specimens of American Poetry: With Critical and Biographical ..., المجلد 3

Samuel Kettell - 1829 - عدد الصفحات: 432
...globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there, And millions in those...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., المجلد 2

1829 - عدد الصفحات: 642
...all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dash ings — yet the dead...




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